Dear reader, have you ever had sweet and sour chicken? You did right? Good! Let me also narrate one such sweet and sour story.

Ever visited the ‘Poush Mela’ at Shantiniketan? Yes, you did. Good! But did you do so around 1968 to 1969? No? Most of you were not born then? That’s sad. But my story is relevant to that period.

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In the past I used to visit the stall of a magical vanishing alluring young lady, then the goat with two heads, kather nagordolna (a micro-mini giant wheel with wooden swings making creaky noises as it moves back and forth), balloon shooting stall, parathas stalls and so many more. We finally covered the ‘kalor dokan’ where our elders belted out Rabindra sangeet such as ‘Amar Mukti Aaloy Aaloy’ and ‘Amar ei deho khani tule dhoro’. And I used to wonder whether the almighty would have the strength to pick up the heavy man and keep holding him up. Our elders used to visit us with other people calling us,“Amar baccha”, or  “Amar prothom sontan” and the onlookers would go, “Ki mishti!”. We used to succumb to the occasional bear hug of genuine warmth, thus allowing for the usual aftereffects, the lingering smell of their smelly armpits after the afternoon sun. We used to come home with gas balloons, blasting foghorns, adding noise pollution, and expressing our happy minds to the big world around us. Our childhood was of innocence, of a make-believe world, with Santa Clauses and ghosts hiding behind our bed and a desire to purchase everything at the mela even though our budgets were limited. I remember dropping our hankies on the floor as the wooden, creaky nagordolna would turn a circle and then, trying to retrieve the same on the next turn. I used to pick up pink or red handkerchiefs of most pretty girls if there were any.

Now we have all become fathers, uncles or aunties. Our children have flown from their nest.

And so we all once again return to the Poush mela with a bag full of fond memories, knowing fully well that the wooden nagordolna has been replaced by a metal one giant. The young lady’s stall was missing otherwise. I saw the clay or jute necklaces and bought a few for the wives in my neighbourhood on being requested by their husbands. We old men, yet young at mind, walk past the mela’s control room and listen to the announcement, “Mimu, your sister and Kaju are waiting for you at the mela’s control room. Wherever you may be, you are requested to promptly come here.” Enjoying the announcement thoroughly, a girl who was hiding behind us, was giggling while the announcement was being made, popped out from behind us and proceeded to approach the control room. Ohh, we had a good laugh, because most of us have done the same. And we used to pretend as if we were embarrassed by those announcements, and yet we enjoyed the experience during our childhood.

Now, as we are old. We boarded the train back to Kolkata. Yet, I am certain that any man would be conjuring up tales of his embarrassment at the various ports just to shock his wife! Land (Kolkata) ahoy!